Heavy would the heart be that could hold up this empty vessel.

Robotic mighty standing as Atlas under the great weight of the cosmos on his back.

Broken countless times, yet reforged, made stronger by life's burning flames.

Sleep evades the psyche, dreams, imaginations flitter back and forth from present to past lastly disappeared.

Focus lost at every turn, where did the fae go, where did the years go, where did the dreams go.

Was it to dreams to have imagined futures, possibilities endless and ever reaching yet forever undefined.

What could be a dream but a wish a goal to strive for, to achieve. Where may one without a heart find a dream.

Where does a cold steel chassis find a heart to pump their oil blood?

Was it not the dream to find a heart?

Then where, oh where could that heart have gone?

Lost to the ether, to time and space, or given away to one deserving yet unworthy still.

The tin-man without his heart, nothing left but a brain

Too long he has had to think, too long he dreams can you bring him his heart.